


Desk Job

by blakefancier, Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Desk Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the end of the series due to *handwavium* Blake is President of the Federation, and his husband, Avon, is First Gentleman (yes, enough to make a cat laugh). Blake is very busy, and Avon is feeling deprived of his conjugals, so... sneak attack desk sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desk Job

**Author's Note:**

> Blakefancier played Blake in our RPG back in the friendly LJ days, so did all Blake's actions and dialog. I am responsible for Avon being the sneaky slut that he is here, and for reformatting this into a story.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Avon was bored now that the revolution was over. Blake had kept him from returning to a life of larceny by bonding with him and promising to fuck him stupid nearly every night. Avon had insisted on that wording in the ceremony, but Blake's interpretation of 'nearly' was now on its fourth night due to a round of negotiations with planetary leaders and other trivia. Avon wondered if he might find something interesting in the Hexagonal Office, something he could annoy Blake with until matters resolved to his satisfaction. Avon slipped in, got behind the huge desk and began deftly unlocking drawers with a laser-probe.

***

Blake walked quickly down the corridor, hoping that the ambassador from Jellico Five would take the hint and leave him alone. Unfortunately, like all ambassadors, he would not give up, arguing his point passionately. Blake sighed and walked into the Hexagonal room. Before he could shut the door, the ambassador walked in. "Julien, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. We're giving you as much aid as we can."

 _Damn!_ Avon dove under the desk, grateful for the 'privacy panel' and the generous proportions of the desk. He turned around inside the dark, rectangular cave, and quietly pushed the open drawer shut. With any luck, Blake was only coming in to fetch a data-pad and would leave quickly.

The ambassador droned on, "But Mr. President, my people need your help." 

Blake sighed and walked over to the other side of his desk. He collapsed in his chair and scooted it forward so that he could start work on some paperwork. "I know. And if I could offer you more aid, I would."

 _Oh, hell..._ Avon stared at a close-up view of Blake's trouser cuffs as his bond-mate settled himself in his overstuffed leather chair as if preparing for a siege. He recognized the other voice. Julien of Jellico Five. The man was a legend for his persistence, and Blake was too soft-hearted to have the guards throw him out. This would be a long wait. Avon tilted his head and watched Blake from an unusual perspective, seeing the rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathed, watching the light picking out the soft, heavy curve lying against Blake's left thigh. Avon felt more cheated than ever. Blake made Avon wait while he listened to fools. He deserved to be taught a lesson. Avon grinned suddenly, and reached out, running a hand up Blake's calf, inside the trouser leg.

Julien kept up his verbal assault. Finally, Blake interrupted him. "I realize that corn is your major crop, but we're giving those subsidies to--" Blake gasped as he felt something touch his leg.

Julien asked, "Mr. President? Are you all right?"

"I..." Blake reached underneath his desk, his hand brushing a face with a very unique profile. He snatched his hand away and placed it back on the desk. "I'm fine. Where was I? Oh, yes. We're giving those subsidies to planets with a greater need."

 _I'll teach you to ignore my 'greater need'._ Avon lifted Blake's trouser leg and licked and nibbled along the calf, taking his time to enjoy the taste and tease the hairs with his teeth.

Julien said, "Mr. President-- Blake, the economy is built around corn. It's our biggest cash crop. If you don't help us our economy will collapse."

Blake bit his bottom lip and tried to concentrate on Julien's words. But Avon's mouth-- what the hell was he doing under the desk-- nibbled along his calf. It had been days since they fucked, and Blake was feeling the loss rather acutely at the moment. "I'm sorry."

Avon grinned. _I'll bet you're sorry._ He moved closer and massaged Blake's thighs through the loose, soft fabric of his trousers, pushing Blake's legs open, and rubbing his cheek along the inner thigh, inhaling genuine wool and the underlying scent of Blake.

Blake leaned forward in his chair, then back. He wanted to reach down and stroke Avon's head, run his fingers through his hair. But he couldn't let Julien know what they were doing; the reputation of the presidency was at stake. He told Julien, "There's nothing I can do. The choice has been made." He briefly closed his eyes as he felt Avon run his cheek over Blake's thigh.

"Then at least consider the economic treaty I've put on the table," Julien said.

Avon's grin widened as Blake began to squirm. He stroked Blake's crotch, outlining cock and reaching between to caress balls. _Now, there's something you could put on the table. A well-hung piece of meat and a pair of hefty potatoes._ Avon's mouth began to water.

Blake gasped quietly and gripped the arms of the chair. There was a note of strain in his voice as he replied, "I'm not the only person who needs to agree to the plan."

"The others will listen to you--," Julien paused, and looked at Blake. "Are you all right? You look a little flushed." 

"Fine. I'm fine," Blake answered him shortly.

 _Oh, yes, this is working out very nicely._ Avon undid Blake's trouser zip, easing it down silently, and then plunged his face in against the green silk boxers he'd bought Blake on a whim, and never regretted. He licked the silk, slowly, the crisp, metallic flavour changing as Blake's cock whimpered silently, stretched out and began to weep, soaking the silk from the inside as Avon's mouth wet it from the outside.

Blake clenched his teeth on a moan and grunted. He leaned forward pressing his hands against the desk, as if he was about to stand.

Julien asked, uncertainly, "Blake?"

Blake was panting. "Cramp in my leg. Ooh, it's a bad cramp." _I'm going to kill Avon. Kill him for teasing me now, in front of the ambassador._

 _Bananas are good for leg-cramps._ Avon grinned wickedly as he reached in and urged Blake's cock out through the open-fly-front of the boxers, caressing the warm flesh and guiding it to his mouth. He sucked Blake's cockhead gently, one hand rolling and kneading Blake's balls, the other hand reaching down to unzip his own trousers.

Julien's eyes widened. "Are you in pain?"

"Mmmm. Horrible pain." Blake panted. "Maybe... maybe you should go." He crossed his arms on the desk and buried his head against them. He whispered, "Fuck, oh fuck." Avon's mouth and hands were driving him insane. Hot and wet and lovely, he'd missed his lover's mouth. Missed it so much that he didn't care if he came surrounded by the whole assembly.

Avon rocked back and forth, swallowing deeply. Blake's legs were spread wide and trembling and he was breathing rapidly. _Not long now._ Avon jerked roughly at himself, but kept concentrating on Blake, on the electric tension in the large body that he had trapped, totally under his command. Blake's balls tightened under his hand, drawing up close. Blake's cock filled Avon's throat, hot and hard, and slick.

Blake moaned softly against his arms. Avon was sucking his cock like an expert. In a moment of sanity, Blake realized that he couldn't, just _couldn't_ have an orgasm with Julien in the room. He looked up at Julien and almost laughed at the frightened look on his face. "Get out! Get out now!" There must have been something in his eyes, he'd never seen anyone run out of a room that quickly. Blake leaned back in his chair, moaning loudly now, hands grasping Avon's hair as he fucked his mouth. "Oh, I'm going to get you... for this... Make you... pay... Fuck!" He pulled Avon's head close, holding him while he came down Avon's throat.

Avon gulped greedily as Blake jerked in his mouth, wanking wildly as he suspected that if he didn't come now Blake might not allow him to finish. Blake gripped Avon so tightly he felt as if his hair was about to be ripped out by handfuls. He came and arched his back, jerking upright, only to slam into the top of the desk so hard he could hear paperweights rattle.

Blake slumped bonelessly in the chair, wincing slightly as he heard Avon hit the desk. He released Avon's hair, smoothing it gently. "You bastard. I'm going to kill you.--- Right after I give you a kiss. Get up here."

Avon crawled out from under the desk, and as Blake's chair was still up against it, was forced to climb on Blake's lap. He carefully avoided putting pressure on Blake's still recovering cock and grinned unrepentently at Blake. "Hello. Nice day, isn't it?" 

"You could have asked instead of assaulting me in front of the ambassador. I'm sure he's convinced I'm insane." Blake kissed Avon slowly, tasting himself in Avon's mouth. "And yes, it is a nice day."

"I could have asked, but this was more enjoyable." Avon relaxed against Blake. "You might want to tell your staff that you're not dying." He grinned. "I suspect the ambassador will have a full med-evac team here within the minute."

Blake reached over and hit his comm button. He had a converation with his now-frantic personal assistant reassuring her that he was fine and _not_ remotely near death. He mock-glared at Avon once he'd calmed her. "I hope you're happy. What were you doing under my desk?" 

Avon looked at Blake, with his eyes opened wide and innocent. "If you don't remember, I'll be happy to refresh your memory."

Blake smiled. "Avon, why were you crawling around under my desk? And don't tell me that you were waiting for me because I wasn't scheduled to be back here for another hour and a half. Do you want to add treason and espionage to your list of crimes?"

Avon answered placidly, "You can't testify against me." He rubbed Blake's neck. "Treason, never... a little domestic espionage, perhaps. I was curious to see what attraction this desk holds for you that makes you prefer it to our bed."

Blake stroked Avon's cheek. "Ah, I'd much rather be in our bed with you. Unfortunately, responsibility keeps me tied to this desk, and away from you. I'm sorry. I'm not being fair to you, am I?"

"Oh, you needn't feel guilty. I agreed that you needed to set the administration up properly, or we'd lose all we had fought for." Avon kissed Blake lightly. "I'll be glad when your term of office expires.--- You aren't thinking of seeking reelection, are you?"

Blake wrapped his arms around Avon and kissed his cheek. "And if I was?" Blake paused briefly then said, "No, I'm not going to seek reelection. I want to retire to a nice little cottage and spend all my days making love to you."

"Nice little cottage with full mod. cons." Avon ruffled Blake's hair and sighed. "I suppose you have to get back to Presidenting."

"In a moment." Blake kissed Avon tenderly. "You are the most important person in my life. Now I should get back to Presidenting."

Avon got up and stood beside Blake's chair, leaning down to kiss him once more. He grinned and moved back out of easy reach before announcing, " At least I now know I'm the only one who's been in the President's drawers."

Blake laughed. "For that, my dear, you get a hard fucking tonight." Blake tucked himself in. "Now let me get to work."

"That makes it all worthwhile." Avon smiled and left the President's office, barely remembering to tidy himself up before he left. He smiled at the President's secretary, who was looking up at him from her desk, obviously puzzled to see him emerge when she hadn't let him in."Oh, Ronetta, could you leave a note with Housekeeping? The dust under the President's desk is disgraceful."


End file.
